Tuesday, 23 April 2013

Tamsin Toothamint!

Alternate title:  The continuing storrrrry of a girl with a grin.

Four and a half months and two teeth for Tamsin!       So far, all attempts to capture the cutie patoothie on film has been thwarted by either fingers in her mouth or a tongue sticking out.  You can try to look closely at these pictures and videos, and let me know if you can see them, but I can't.  I swear that there are two, very cute little toothlings that showed up last week.  Tamsin had a fussy (for her) day, and a fussy (for her) night -- she woke up once.  Odd, I thought.  Hey, a tooth!  And two hours later, behold!  Another tooth!
Happy Girl, not showing off her teeth. 
With great teeth come great responsibilities.  And not-so-great rice cereal.
Below, it's breakfast in Huff House East.  This is Tamsin's first taste of "food", and Vaughn and Ailsa make guest appearances.  Lately, they've been getting up and changing into their bathrobes, so they can be Just Like Daddy.

Happy Girl, the movie.

Turn your speakers up a bit for this one, please! 
Translation:  argle fargle bargle glarp.  Argle bargle argle.  Wee wee wee.  Argle.

Tuesday, 16 April 2013

Misty Water Closet Memories

(Disclaimer:  The following story will diminish me in some people's eyes, and elevate me in others.  Read at your own risk.)

I went to the Queensview GoodLife for a team practice over the weekend.  I noticed that they had finally upgraded the women's bathroom, after more than ten years of cringing every time I walked in.  The small white tiles underfoot (underknee?) are now more modern, earth tones.  The dated white countertop and sink (for leaning on and splashing my face with water), and large, cracked mirror (reflecting bleary eyes and splotchy skin) had been replaced.

The memories still flowed back, but not as strong.

It was late fall, 1997.  I was working full-time at GoodLife, going to school full-time, and generally just losing my mind.  Of course, I decided to take my instructor certification course at Queensview, over a weekend...which coincided with a late lab on Friday afternoon and our work Christmas party on Saturday night.  Don't let anyone tell you that I didn't put all-out effort into everything back then.

Friday:  The lab was just standard exercise physiology work:  sometimes it involved running on a treadmill to measure VO2 max (red-faced, drooling around the breath hose, some vomiting), sometimes cycling on a stationary bike to measure lactic acid accumulation in the blood (sweating, bleeding, some vomiting), sometimes being submerged in tanks of water to measure body fat (bathing suits and -- oh yeah -- sharing exactly how fat you are with your peers).  You know, standard horrifying experiments.  This one, however, beat all the rest for personal discomfort and embarrassment:  urinalysis.  It is to the professor's credit that she waited till the last lab of the semester to bring out the old pee lab.  By this point of the year, we were comfortable enough as a class that nothing much could phase us, but still, having to walk back and forth from the lab to the public bathrooms holding cups full of our own pee, was a tough go.

Well, at first.

We started by being assigned to experimental groups:  coffee, salt water, insane amounts of water, reasonable amounts of water, and -- wait for it -- alcohol.

Leave it to me to be crossing my fingers and wishing for the alcohol group.  And for once, I got what I wanted.  Huzzah, I thought.  This is working out well. 

We were all sent off to the 'loo for a baseline sample...a big old cup of pee.  That was more than a bit awkward.  We checked each sample's density, presence of chemical elements which I don't now recall, and began.

The other two in the alcohol(ic) group were giant men - 6 feet or more in height, and BIG.  They didn't even blink when they were handed their two shots of Crown Royal.  Me, not so much.  But really, what was I expecting, a cocktail?*  I sipped as quickly as I could, shuddering and sputtering, but I got it down.  For science.

The next few trips to the bathroom were, obviously, more fun.  Giggly, even.  We'd cheers each other with urine samples.  Good times.  A few hours later, we had written up our results, and were off.

By the time I left school to head to the gym, I was feeling much less drunk than I started, but knew that I probably had a bit of rye on the breath.   Arriving at Queensview, I went straight to the woman running the course (Mo), boozily babbled an explanation about a human kin lab and needing to drink in order to pass, get a degree, become a contributing member of society, etc.), and tottered off to my seat.

Saturday:  A full day of instructor training.  It was mostly theoretical, with a lot of focus on anatomy and physiology, which was easy review for me.  Every once in a while, we'd get up and go through some moves, focusing on cueing, choreography patterns, or conditioning various muscle groups.  Not too taxing, and altogether a pleasant way to spend a day.

I went home to shower and get ready for our annual Christmas party.  It started with a dinner, and I believe (this is where everything starts to get hazy) we were going to go out afterwards.  I got all gussied up in my "naked dress" (a light peach slip dress that nothing good ever happened in), put $15 in my wallet (I was even more of a lightweight back then), and off I went. 

The dinner was fun.  There were a few head office attendees, including Mo and our regional manager.  There was a chinese gift exchange, we made hats out of napkins (as evidenced by photos, not actual memories), and then we went back to Allie's place to continue the party.  The rest of the evening went something like this:  I was playing Twister....

Sunday:  ...and then I woke up.  In a strange bed.  With shorts on over my dress.  And $9 still in my wallet.

I dragged myself out of bed (which turned out to be Allie's), went home, showered and changed quickly, threw up, and went back to Queensview for my last day of instructor training.  What was light and easy only a day before was suddenly impossible.  The day went something like this:  40 minutes of theory, 15 minutes of practical, vomit.  Forty more minutes of theory, 15 minutes of practical, vomit.  All.  Day.  Long.  I kept refilling my water bottle with cold water, and would always politely say, "excuse me," before leaving the group.

At the end of the day, All of my joints ached.**  I was shaking, exhausted, and thoroughly embarrassed and disgusted with myself.   The class, however, gave me a standing ovation.  What a great impression on Mo, who had not only seen me stumble in after the lab, but was there the night before, and didn't think I'd survive the day!  Go me!  I thanked them all and excused myself one more time.

That night, I crawled into bed and called Allie.  "What happened?"  I whimpered.  "How could I feel like this and still have $9 in my wallet?" 

Apparently, head-office guy had been buying shots.  And someone else covered the wine with dinner. 

"And the shorts?"

Well, I was playing Twister in a dress. 



So, it's been many, many years since that weekend.  I look back and am still pretty embarrassed, and definitely question the wisdom of sharing this.  But it happened.  And everytime I go to that club, it makes me smile, for some reason.  And it was a great story.***

*Actually, yes.  I was totally expecting a cocktail.

**With several further studies (for science), I have come to call this "alcohol-induced arthritis".

*** And to be fair, the Friday night was, technically, school work, and the Saturday night was funded by GoodLife. I was overserved, as it were.

Monday, 8 April 2013

Four Months Already????

Wow, time has flown by.  Must be from all that sleeping we've been doing.

No, seriously.  We got a good one.

Here is little Tamsin at 4 months, weighing in at 14 lbs.  She models a top and jaunty chapeau in support of Mommy's plot to regain her super-fun job at the RCMP.


 And then she learns about DRAP.

Although she has done the front-to-back rolling over, her best milestone is the baby belly laugh.  It's hysterical.  She also has the lead-up to the laugh, which is a great sound that I'll try to capture soon....sort of like a mooseling bellowing. 

She has also started to actively play, and is willing to take on anyone -- anyone -- at peek-a-boo.

And no, still no eyebrows.  But we love her to bits anyway.

Sunday, 7 April 2013

Perfection? No.

I feel that I should check in and reveal my results from my Eat Like A KidTM eating plan.*  I would grade it a (qualified) success:  my mom went on her cruise yesterday, so I hopped meself onto the scale, sucked in my stomach, and... well, I'm down 4 lbs. 

My goal was an 8-lb loss, but I didn't take into account adding muscles back onto my frame.  I am slowly regaining my former shape (a figure competitor at the gym complimented my arms last week!).  My strength has skyrocketed in the past month; this morning, I squatted 95 lbs (that used to be my warmup!), did 12 bodyweight dips, and did three sets of 20 pushups, no problem at all.  I've taught 5 Attack classes, and although I sucked wind, felt nauseous, and ended up showing low options a great deal, I survived, and the progress over the 5 classes was somewhat heartening. 

The "regime" involved eating the same breakfast as always (oatmeal, half a banana, cup of milk, large glass of water), and making sure I snack with the kids (always with protein/carbs/fat:  ie. babybel and fruit; peanuts/cranberries/raisins; crackers, veggies and dip; etc.).  This way, I don't get too hungry, or forget to eat, and I avoided...ok, reduced the intake of Easter treats that are everywhere, trying to foil me.  I didn't manage the protein shake more than twice, however. 

So, I returned all of my maternity pants from whence they came (Value Village)!  My Last Remaining Pair of Pants fits me again, and I have two other pairs of Normal Pants that, although they cause a bit'o'muffin toppage, are just fine if I remember to hold in my stomach...which, since I got out of the habit again when I was smuggling the last Huffalump around, is harder than it sounds. 
I still have a ways to go to get back to my former fitness level, and I'm not quite ready to go shopping, but with the results I saw over the past 6 weeks, I know that it will come back if I keep working hard.  No excuses!

Ok, maybe one more Creme Egg.

* Note that this will only work if you don't feed your kids crap.

Thursday, 4 April 2013

Random Randomness

I'm so far behind on posting that there is no recovering at this point, so I give you Odd Photos Which Probably Require a Lot of Explanation.

This is me and Theodore, who is apparently telling me that I must be THIS tall to ride.
This is Tamsin, going "blah".

This is what Ailsa looks like as a toreador.
This is Vaughn, unconscious, in the backyard.

This is the answer to How Many Hufflings Can You Fit Into This Box?

This is Mulva.

Completely unrelated:  guess who finally figured out how to upload photos from her phone?